


figure me out

by Val_Creative



Series: IT Movies Fic-Palooza 2019 [43]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Adult Losers Club (IT), Adult Richie Tozier, Adult Stanley Uris, Alcohol, Alternate Canon, Childhood Friends, Derry (Stephen King), Endgame Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Explicit Language, Flirting, Gay Stanley Uris, Humor, Jealous Stanley Uris, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Movie: IT Chapter Two (2019), Mutual Pining, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Romantic Friendship, Secret Crush, Sexual Content, Stanley Uris Lives, The Derry Townhouse (IT), Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 17:54:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21085427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Stan slowly falls in love with Richie over time, but he believes that Richie is still in love with Eddie.





	figure me out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetheartbitterheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetheartbitterheart/gifts).

> Requested by sweetheartbitterheart (AO3): "Stan slowly falling in love with Richie but he believes Richie is still in love with Eddie, mutual pining eventually culminating in passionate sex." IT KIND OF TURNED OUT ADORABLE. WE DON'T PIT REDDIE AND STOZIER AGAINST EACH OTHER IN THIS HOUSE. RICHIE CAN BE IN LOVE WITH BOTH OF THEM IF HE WANTED. But this is definitely a Stozier take. Hope you guys like it! Thanks so much for reading and any comments are so welcomed!

*

There's something fitting about Stanley arriving last in Derry. He's been the most reluctant of the Losers to _want_ to wind up dead.

"Stanley…?" Richie murmurs, wide-eyed.

They're both under a dusty pole-lights attracting moths. Stanley sees the full, ruddy quality of Richie's lips thinning… even from across the length of cement sidewalk. Richie looks like he's just recognized Stanley by appearance. If that's even _possible_. One of the hostesses from Jade of the Orient let Stanley know the dinner reservations were over and that his friends left in a hurry. Derry Townhouse Inn had been Stanley's third and final guess to check (right after the Holiday Inn Motel and Koala Inn Motel on Jackson Street.)

Richie looks like how Stanley expects him to be as an adult: _a lowkey nerd douchebag_. Dark, unkempt curls. The glasses. Casual, unbuttoned shirts layered over each other. Never touched a comb or an ironing board since turning twenty-two.

"Stanley Urine…" Richie laughs, flicking his dying cigarette and speed-walking over. "Holy fuck nuggets, dude!"

His arms loop around Stanley, hugging him, Richie's fists thumping his back. It feels _good_. Familiar. "Hey, Richie," Stanley whispers, his insides somersaulting. But in a pleasant way. He tightens his arms comfortably around Richie's waist.

"When the hell did you get so _TALL_? Did you eat of all of your vegetables or what?"

"I was always taller than you, moron," Stanley says flatly, the corner of his mouth twitching up in amusement. "Considering you lived on McDonalds and chocolate bars since first grade, I'm not surprised I'm taller than you."

Richie doesn't seem to be paying attention to Stanley's quip.

He pulls away, glancing over Stanley up and down in awe. Richie's hands grasp lightly Stanley's forearms, sliding down. Practically holding his wrists. "Wow…" Richie croaks. "_Wow_… man, you're like _sexy_… like Rufus Sewell pre-Y2K sexy…"

An exasperated, bashful huff. Stanley ducks his head, smiling, his cheeks warming.

"Ben, Eddie, you wanna back me up here!" Richie calls out, letting go of Stanley and gesturing as they approach. When nobody agrees, or seems to know what he's talking about, Richie makes a deeply offended noise, looking venomously between the other three. "Seriously? _Seriously_—did none of you fuckers see Dark City? Extreme Ops? _Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter_—?"

During his aggressive spiel, Eddie rolls his eyes and turns back to the front-entrance of Derry Townhouse Inn.

As soon as he's walking, Richie pursues him, yelling out Eddie's name. Ben chuckles.

Stanley folds his arms, suddenly feeling colder. Glum.

_That's right_.

Richie has had a crush on Eddie since they were kids.

He would constantly pine over the lunch table, tossing green peas with his spoon and insulting Eddie's mother and what Eddie was wearing and _Eddie_ in general with that big, dorky smile. It's part of Richie's love language. He needed to express himself with insult-tinged jokes and shows of physical contact.

And, well, Stanley had a crush on Richie.

But he _wasn't Richie_—Stanley kept it to himself and buried it deep. Ever the introvert.

He didn't want to spoil his and Richie's friendship.

On a New Years Eve in 1992, Richie slept over at Stanley's place, getting drunk on champagne, hiccup-laughing. He conked out on Stanley's bedroom floor. Stanley remembers dropping to his knees and heaving a blanket over Richie. He remembers how his best friend reeked like sausage and pepperoni pizza and Beverly's cigarettes he stole in a pack.

Stanley tucked a curl over his ear, bending over and pecking Richie on the mouth. Just once. Three seconds at best.

Because he could never do it with Richie being _aware_ of it, because he doesn't wanna handle the rejection, and because Stanley felt like a coward then. This was probably the only time in Stanley's life he could ever kiss Richie. So he did it.

*

Bill and Mike have gone to the library, or so says Mike's text—so the rest of the Losers wait, hanging around.

Stanley paces around Richie's inn-room, observing the blank, cream-colored walls and Richie's cell sitting out on a tablestand. His bag unzipped and overflowing with two jackets. Stanley notices a litter of clear miniature bottles in Richie's bag.

_Liquor?_

One of the bottles looks different. Like it's made of plastic material instead of glass, and filled up with—

Richie bangs open his own door, sighing loudly. Stanley doesn't bother to hide the fact he's been snooping, flinging the end of Richie's jacket and straightening up from his hunched-over position. "What happened, Richie?"

"Eddie's calmed down. He was freaking out about Bill seeing that motherfuckin' sewer _demon_ at the cemetery earlier."

"We're not gonna survive this," Stanley mutters.

Richie mocks a joyful expression, coming over to him by the tablestand and banging on his shoulder. "Your nihilistic pragmatism is insightful as ever, Stan the Man." He grabs four of the tiny liquor bottles and pops one open, chugging it. He offers the second to Stanley who declines, then popping and chugging. "No really," Richie says, gasping for a breath. "It boosts morale."

"Why didn't you stay with him?" Stanley watches as Richie's face goes puzzled. "_Eddie_," he points out. "I'm talking about _Eddie_."

"He'll be fine. Ben and Beverly are forcing him to drink and watch television in their room."

Stanley juts out his lower lip thoughtfully.

"That's a first…" he comments, avoiding all eye-contact with Richie. "You not running to Eddie's side in times of a crisis…"

"Yeah, yeah, _I know_ you know," Richie mutters, pushing his hands over his face and groaning. "We were kids, man."

"It's okay to still be in love with him, Rich."

Stanley knows he's only saying it for Richie's sake. That's it. Stanley knows he's only saying this out loud because that's what a best friend does, even if they haven't spoken to each other in twenty seven years—and all Stanley wants is Richie to not be _terrified_ of liking men and for his dumb ass to be validated. Maybe actually find _some_ form of happiness in his life.

"I was," Richie admits. "Maybe I still am… I don't know. _I don't fucking know_." He groans again. "Everything's really messed up in my head, since we all got here, and…" Stanley gains the courage to look up, and Richie's dark brown eyes land on him.

"I'm… pretty sure I know how I feel. About _you_, Stan, I mean."

A twinge of heat rises up Stanley's chest. "What are you talking about?" he asks, genuinely unnerved by the intensity from Richie. The other man gazes down to Stanley's chin and lips for a moment, before swooping in, Richie's mouth pressing to his. Stanley doesn't know what to do but go wordless and wide-eyed, frozen in place, as Richie slowly steps back.

"… shit, you didn't know," Richie murmurs, his voice astonished.

Stanley's own head feels messy, _confused_ and light. "Be quiet," he says tonelessly, clutching onto Richie's face with both hands and kissing him. Feeling him respond in delirious moans. Richie's dark scruff scrapes and tingles across Stanley's fingertips.

It's much better than taking a kiss. Stanley wants to give, give Richie everything in him, _give_ him himself.

Richie's tongue plunges in, separating lips and teeth, dragging over Stanley's warm, wet tongue moving with his. He doesn't know if he or Richie maneuvers the other against the bedroom wall, but Stanley finds his back nudging against it, his head thumping. His hands clench down onto Richie's shoulders. He exhales shakily, hoisting his legs up around Richie's middle, getting sturdier when Richie's fingers grip onto his hips and ass. Thankfully the wall can handle their position, their heaviness.

(Turns out the bottle Stanley couldn't identify was filled with _gel lubricant_.)

*

Over the swelling, harmonious music of "The King and I" blaring on Ben's television set, there comes a loud, frantic thudding through the wall. Beverly can practically feel the headboard quaking. Muffled, noisy sex. _Jesus_.

"Do you guys hear that?" Eddie blurts out, looking around.

"Nope," Ben and Beverly lie in unison, Ben's cheeks red. He smashes a remote-button frantically, increasing the TV's volume.

*


End file.
